Pleated Youth
by Amber Krueger
Summary: Sam is assigned to capture a soul that feeds off the life force of others.


"And that concludes why I think everything in the snack bar should be free for employees." Sock raised his finger as he finished his final sentence before diving sideways onto the couch behind Sam and Andi.

"That was… very uninspiring, Mr. Wysocki." Ted furrowed his brow and squinted, tightening his lips in a straight line. "Well. Does anyone have any other suggestions that I might consider before I end this Work Bench staff meeting?"

Sock raised his hand, laying lazily on the couch with one leg dangling off the side. "Anyone?" Ted disregarded Sock, who advanced in jabbing the air above his head with his hand.

"Anyone?" Ted repeated, his eyes wandering over the room filled with Work Bench employees, avoiding Sock.

"Alright. Then class is dismissed." He clapped his hands together and locked his fingers in between each other whilst everyone hurriedly got to their feet and like a stampede, rushed out of the meeting room, passing Ted who stood in place as people brushed past him.

Sock, Sam and Ben were last in the heard of Work Bench staff to leave, but before they had the chance to exit the dreaded room they currently inhabited, Ted pushed out his arm, blocking their path to the door. "Boys, I see that lately you've been slacking in your separate shifts here at the Bench" Ted gestured his arms out as he spoke.

Ben and Sock rolled their eyes and folded their arms as Sam clutched his head, preparing himself for another one of Ted's lectures.

"Especially you, Mr. Oliver." Ted lowered his head, fixating his eyes on Sam, raising his brow until his forehead wrinkled into numerous lines.

After about 10 to 15 minutes of Ted's boring speech of how Ben, Sock and Sam were slacking on the job; Sam pushed his way out of the meeting lounge. Forcing the door open with an unnecessary amount of effort, he went airborne. Hadn't been Sock and Ben who grabbed Sam by the shirt, Sam's face would've met the tiled floor head on.

He straightened himself up and looked down to find a wooden vessel box at his feet. He let out a sharp sigh and picked it up lazily.

"Great. You know one of these days you guys aren't going to be around to catch me and I'm going to end up with a broken nose thanks to the Devil." Sam lugged the box to their assigned area in the garden center.

Sock snatched the vessel box away from Sam before him and Ben could sit down. "Hey!" Sam protested dully.

"You know Sam, it's not fair. Your parents sell your soul to the Devil and my mom sells me out to marry that dude who should've been a one night stand in Vegas. You suck, and for that I am going to open this vessel against your Samish wishes." Sock trotted excitedly to the other side of the garden table and set the case down.

Sam sighed and sat down. "Fine, open it. Thing damn near rearranged my face anyway."

Sock arched a brow, taking his eyes from the vessel box to Sam and back down at the box again. He pushed it across the table to Sam. "Never mind. You open it."

Another elongated and tired sigh slipped from Sam's lips before he reached out to each corner of the box, thumbing at the latches. He slowly lifted the top, smoke seeping from the agape opening.

There lay within the red velvet cushioning of the demonic case from the bowels of perdition, a flashlight.

"You have got to be kidding me. Please don't tell me this is a flashlight!" Sam groaned displeased with the vessel he was provided with.

An everyday black flashlight that looked as though it could be found in anyone's garage, in a drawer that hadn't been opened for a long time. Nearing the head of the flashlight, in between the rubber handle and curve, sat a lone red button that apparently would be used to turn the light on and off.

"Hey it could come in handy if the lights go out like they did with that electricity soul." Ben said, attempting to lighten up the mood (pun intended).

"Dude!" Sock started, a laugh begging to escape him. "You can totally play flashlight wars with it! Remember? We totally used to do that." He added, allowing his laugh to slip from his throat.

Sam waved the flashlight around as if it were a light saber, making whooshing sounds.

"I'm a total Jedi working for the Sith leader." Sam shook his head and set the flashlight down.

"You are so the new Anakin Skywalker. You even have the Jedi mind powers, man! Except you kind of can't control them. Which makes it even cooler! I hate you." Sock folded his arms like a child would when refused a cookie before dinner.

Ben sympathetically pat Sock on the shoulder. "So do you know anything about the soul yet?" He asked tentatively.

Sam shrugged and frowned studying the flashlight.

Several hours later, Sam waved to Andi who he dropped off home with Ben and Sock, tagging along as usual. Andi smiled and waved before heading inside. Sam floored the gas and sped out of the neighborhood.

"I haven't seen the Devil in a while. You think he's been avoiding me?" Sam shifted his eyes to the rearview mirror at Ben and Sock who sat in the back. Sock leaned forward, pushing between the driver and passenger seat. He squirmed, manipulating his legs into the right position until he planted his feet firmly on the floor in the front, sitting down on the passenger seat heavily; his elbow whacking Sam in the back of the head. "Ow!" Sam cried and gave Sock a look.

Sock grimaced and patted Sam on the head, then fixed his collar. "Maybe the Devil is just busy." Ben suggested, eyeing Sock for his recent actions.

"Yeah, or maybe the Devil found himself a lady Devil." Sock snorted, buckling his seatbelt.

"Eh, I don't know. He's usually really clingy. I haven't really heard from him in over a week, up until the vessel this morning that was really all the contact I've had with him lately. And that wasn't really contact at all."

"Unless you count your near face-to-floor experience a form of contact." Ben snickered. Sock laughed and turned to Ben and then back to Sam, who sighed; realizing the apparent situation that he was the serious one amongst two jokers.

Sock skipped down the hall, the keys to their apartment jingling in his hand as he rushed past Sam and Ben. Ahead of Sam, Ben followed behind Sock who pushed the door open and zoomed into the apartment, nose diving for the fridge the second he entered. Ben sat on the couch just as Sock tossed him a beer, and took one for himself.

As Sam stepped into the doorway, he soon realized that he was no longer in his apartment; and standing next to him, why none other than the Devil, of course.

Sam quickly noticed his boss standing at his side, and hunched forward releasing an exaggerated, drawn out sigh.

The Devil clasped his hands together in front of him, pushing out his bottom lip in thought. Smacking his lips before he spoke, he turned to Sam letting his hands to fall at his sides. "Straight to business, Sam." He swiped his right hand, cutting through the air.

"Your next soul" he began, turning to a locked set of glass double doors. Inside, visible from the outside, was a receptionist counter, centering itself within a lobby of some sort.

"Michael Pleats. Infamous for coming to nursing homes, such as this one right here, and well, sucking the life right out of the patients. He's a real vampire, let me tell you." Satan patted Sam on the shoulder, a big grin plastered across his face.

"He sucked the life out of old people?" Sam said, slightly disturbed by the fact the Devil had just explained to him.

The Devil nodded. "He believed that in order to stay within his youth, he'd have to steal the life force of others and use it for his own. Apparently, staying young doesn't keep the ol' Grim Reaper away." He lightly elbowed Sam in the side.

"So now he's back and taking what little life the elderly have for themselves away?"

"Mmmm, yes." The Devil purred, settling his eyes on the receptionist that was getting ready to clock out for the night.

She seemed to be exceptionally young, maybe in her mid to late 20's. She wore what would be expected of a receptionist: a fitted black skirt, inching just below her knee. Tan pantyhose, a white dress shirt, all the buttons safely fastened except for the top one that folded open a few inches above her collarbone. Her hair was dark auburn, thick and wavy, but shined cleanly underneath the chandelier light that hung over the main part of the lobby.

She rushed to gather her belongings, such as her average sized purse. She swung it over her shoulder, pushed her silver framed glasses up the bridge of her nose, hurrying out of her office and out the door, past Sam and the Devil; who had his eyes fixated on her, his expression wreaked of a certain hunger.

Sam studied his boss' body language, and from what he could see, he suspected that the Devil had his mind set on that receptionist. "Uh… do I need to ask?" He tilted his head to the side in inquisition.

The Devil shook his head and turned to Sam, his eyebrows raised, causing his eyes to stretch to a more than usual open. "What? Oh, her? Nah. I was just getting a good look at her before she dies in that car accident. I like to keep track of who's going into my domain, as much as I like to keep track of who's going out."

Sam's mouth fell open. "She…"

"Yep. Looks can be deceiving, Sammy boy. Although you could've predicted that. I mean who on earth would pick me out of a crowd and know that I'm the Devil?" The Devil chuckled, chewing on the inside of his cheeks.

Soon after, a loud screeching of tires echoed from about a mile down the street, then the horrid sound of metal clashing together, accompanied by a loud boom startled Sam.

The Devil wasn't joking. The aforementioned receptionist with the deceiving appearance had just slumped over the steering wheel of her now totaled black, 1999 Hyundai Accent. The airbag failed to deploy, resulting in her death. A green Range Rover slammed right into the passenger side of the car, a T-bone. The driver of the Range Rover survived.

Sam shook his head, his brow stressed, creating worry lines above the bridge of his nose.

"Aw, don't feel bad, Sammy. She was a slut." The Devil ruffled Sam's hair and smiled. "Trust me, that receptionist didn't just answer phones. She spread her legs for anything that moved, the world is better without her herpes."

Sam only sighed in response.

"Anything more I need to know about the soul?" Sam asked, scratching his head.

The Devil's lips curled into a sick grin. "Don't let him touch you, whatever you do. Unless you want to spend some extra time with me in Hell." He winked and advanced down the steps of the nursing home porch.

Sam found himself back in his apartment, standing in the doorway with the vivid image of his boss' twisted smirk in his mind's eye… and that's when he remembered, whilst at the nursing home, before the predicted death of the late receptionist, he'd spotted a sign that read "Morningstar Home for the Elderly".

The next day, Sam, Sock and Ben headed out in a search for the nursing home and successfully finding it within the same hour of said search.

Sam parked the car in one of the more secluded parking spots in the parking lot. The sun began to set as they staked out, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity.

"How do you know the soul will come here? Why not another nursing home?" Ben commented, peering over the shoulder of the passenger seat.

"I don't know. The Devil said that the soul came to nursing homes just like this one, and I think there's a pretty good chance of him coming here tonight." Sam explained, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"You don't even know what he looks like." Ben replied, arching a brow.

"We'll just go along with our instincts. Whatever looks suspicious, point it out. That's all we can really do with what little information the Devil gave me." Sam kept his eyes locked on the nursing home entrance. Studying whoever stepped in or out.

Sock pulled out a candy bar from his pocket and opened it, the wrapper crinkling loudly with every touch. Sam and Ben turned to face Sock, who stopped and shrugged. "What? I'm hungry."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned back around. "That looks suspicious enough to me." He pointed, staying low to keep unnoticed. A shadowed man stalked up the porch and through the entrance. The sun had set completely, the moon rising in it's place, lighting the sky to the corn blue of dusk. All that was visible was that he was wearing a black trench coat, along with dark, slicked back hair. If anything he could be mistaken for the Devil from behind because of the similar hairstyles. Despite the fact that he was sickeningly pale, whereas the Devil stood pure tan from head to toe.

Sam wrapped his fingers around the handle of his provided vessel, slowly opening the car door as the man went inside.

"Let's go." Sam waved for Sock and Ben to get out of the car, and then advanced in creeping up to the entrance. Sam tried the door and to his surprise, it was locked.

"Damn it!" Sam gritted his teeth in frustration. "How are we supposed to get in now?" He sighed angrily.

Ben peered around the corner of the porch and hopped over the railing. "Over here!" He whispered, motioning for Sock and Sam to follow. They did so, and only to find another door that would most likely be locked as well.

"The emergency entrance. Where ambulances take in sick patients." Ben said as they reached the single door that stood in their path of capturing the escapee from hell.

"Locked." Ben shook his head in disappointment. Sock eagerly skipped up to the door, his eyes searching for a solution.

"Aha!" Sock snickered. "A security code keypad." He pointed, a smirk spread across his face.

"All we need to do is crack it." Sock beamed, turning to the keypad. He tried several combinations before a loud click caught Sam and Ben's attention. The door pushed open with ease. Sam pat Sock on the shoulder and snuck inside with Ben. Sock giggled as he hurried in behind Sam, the door shutting slowly behind him.

They walked down the halls, attempting to stray from drawing attention to themselves.

Their eyes wandered over every knick and cranny of the nursing home until Sock spotted the suspicious figure. Sam gripped the flashlight tightly, tensing his muscles as he prepared himself to strike.

The shadowed man loomed over a patient who lay peacefully in bed, asleep. A wide grin spread across the man's face as he retracted his hand from his trench coat pocket, and hovered it over the patient's forehead.

Sam stepped inside the room. Without the chance to exchange words, the soul glanced up, caught red handed before he had the chance to drain his victim of life force.

Swiftly, the man headed for the shared bathroom between rooms, opened the door and headed out through the room next door. Sam, Sock and Ben raced down the halls after the man, their sneakers thumping loudly against the tile floors and their jeans ruffling as their legs rubbed together with each rapid step.

They followed the escapee outside, into the courtyard. The night sky hung thick with darkness, bars of moonlight seeping through the trees.

Ben blocked entry from the door so that no one would see the happenings of Sam collecting his assigned soul. Sock stood several feet away, keeping his distance.

"It's over Pleats. You're going back to hell." Sam assured, aiming the vessel at Michael Pleats who stood, cornered by the reaper, in a defensive, hunched over position.

Sam pressed down on the red button with his thumb, making sure he gripped the vessel with both hands. A blinding blue light burst from behind the thin piece of glass that encased the light bulb, shining on the no longer shadowed Michael Pleats. His face, inexplicably wrinkled and shriveled as if sponged in a pool of water for a long period of time. His cheeks drooped like a bulldog's, the skin dangling just an inch or so beneath his chin.

The light beamed brightly, until the whole courtyard lit up as if the sun hung high in the sky. Sock, shielding his eyes and squinting, attempted to keep sight of what was going on.

Sam turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut as the soul was completely bathed in light. Pleats dematerialized into microscopic particles and was then sucked into the head of the flashlight with the strength of a black hole.

The light quickly disappeared along with the soul. The courtyard returned to it's dark, causing Sam and Sock's vision to recover from the ridiculous brightness of the light.

Sam rubbed his eyes and shook his head, studying the flashlight one more time before jamming it face first into his pocket.

The next day, Sam had dropped off the vessel after work. As he left the DMV, he found himself back at home, sitting on his bed next to the Devil.

"Job well done, Sammy." Satan smiled, lightly patting Sam on the knee. "I try." Sam replied, smiling back at his boss.

"You want to know something really ironic?" The Devil leaned in and whispered to his reaper. "I don't know." Sam tilted his head.

"Remember that slutty receptionist?" The Devil asked, his brows lifted with interest.

"Yeah."

"Well, Michael Pleats just happened to be her grandfather. Guess who's back to get revenge on you for sending him back to hell?" Lucifer's smile only widened as Sam's expression immediately filled up to the brim with bewilderment.

The Devil giggled with a sense of delight, that trademarked grin of his still loud and clear upon his face.

He patted Sam on the knee again, gripping onto his employee tightly and shaking him the slightest bit as he stood up.

Another vessel appeared on the bed, taking the Devil's seat next to Sam as he disappeared without warning as he usually did.

Sam let out a tired sigh.

"I'll never get a break, will I?" He shook his head, opening the vessel box.


End file.
